


Colours Turn To Grey

by AliceSchuyler



Series: Keeping It Together [15]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Carlos is a sad noodle, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Migraine, Sickfic, TK is a good boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29755149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceSchuyler/pseuds/AliceSchuyler
Summary: Overtime, lack of food, stress overload, no sleep and caffeine deprivation is a deadly combination that brings Carlos to his knees faster than a suspect with a loaded gun.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Series: Keeping It Together [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132163
Comments: 9
Kudos: 193





	Colours Turn To Grey

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have much migraine experience - I've only ever had one full migraine that I remember, but I've had numerous optical migraines, which are terrifying, because they can come on without much notice, so I've tried to convey what I know.

Carlos sat at his desk, reaching for another Hershey’s bar from his desk drawer, absentmindedly eating through the slab as he worked on paperwork, filing reports from the previous night. He’d not yet slept, pulling overtime to finalise a case, and his stomach grumbled a little as he thought about the meal he’d missed with TK, and the evening he’d had to cancel. His phone vibrated across the desk, and he swiped it up.

_TK: Hope you finished the case! Missed you last night xx_

He rubbed his temples as he glanced at his phone, watching as the screen wobbled in front of him a little, struggling to focus on the words, before smiling at the casual message from TK. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the stiffness in his neck from poring over reports for hours.

“You going to head home soon Reyes? You looked wrecked,” commented Hannah, sweeping past Carlos’ desk with a cup of coffee. Carlos yawned, his jaw cracking, and he pushed the forms back on his desk. He glanced at the numerous Hershey’s wrappers on his desk, furrowing his brow as he thought through all the chocolate he’d eaten over the past few hours. He rationed that the night had been busy, and he’d had little time for actual food, so it wasn’t unrealistic to think he’d needed to keep his sugar levels up.

“Think I’ll call it a night, might see if Sarge will let me have an extra day for the overtime,” replied Carlos, standing up unsteadily.

“You right to get home? Maybe you should take an Uber or a Lyft home instead,” added Hannah.

“No, it’s alright. It’s not that far from here, and then I can grovel to TK about missing dinner last night,” answered Carlos wearily. He waved goodbye to one of the other officers before heading into the locker room, grabbing his backpack and keys. He stumbled slightly walking out the back door to the carpark, legs feeling unusually heavy. He unlocked the Camaro, sliding inside and dumping his backpack on the passenger seat, before pulling out his phone, unlocking it and wincing at the brightness of the screen. Tapping on TK’s message, he responded, letting him know he was on his way home.

_TK: See you soon ‘Los. Drive safe!_

The trip home seemed to stretch and bend, taking hours but only seconds, and before he could even blink, he found himself in his own driveway, staring dumbly at his hands on the steering wheel. He felt his legs tingling, and attributed it to a chase of the suspect a few hours earlier, exhaustion running rife through his body. TK stood in the doorway, grinning at Carlos as he slowly made his way up the path.

“Hey you. You look really tired,” said TK warmly, arms stretching out to pull Carlos close. Carlos relaxed into TK’s arms, head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. TK kissed the top of his head, before leading him into the apartment. “I put some of your clothes in the bathroom so you could have a shower and get changed, and I’ve got warm food in the kitchen for you, and your favourite episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine queued up and ready to go.” Carlos felt his heart lift a little, and stretched up to kiss TK, lips tingling.

“I love you,” he slurred slightly. TK raised an eyebrow, before pushing Carlos in the direction of the bathroom.

“Go, hurry up before you fall asleep standing up!” Carlos forced himself up the stairs, feet dragging as he yawned, jaw cracking. He felt like he was trying to think through molasses, brain slow as he walked to the bedroom, stowing his gun away. He stripped off his clothes, not caring where they fell as he stepped into the bathroom, cranking the shower on. He stood under the hot spray, closing his eyes to try and hide the spots obscuring his vision. He tried to lift his arms to wash his hair, but the pins and needles made it feel impossible, and he decided that it could wait until later, when he wasn’t quite so tired.

“Hey, you still awake in there?” called TK’s voice through the door.

“Yeah, sorry, just enjoying the water, I’ll be out in a minute,” replied Carlos, voice bouncing off the walls, echoing loudly. He turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and pulling a towel around himself.

“All good, you’ve been in there for nearly twenty minutes, just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’ll get you some food ready.” Carlos heard TK walk away, feet thudding down the stairs, and took a deep breath. He just needed to get dressed, eat some food, and then sleep off this lethargy that was threatening to make him fall to his knees in the bathroom. He pulled on the soft blue t-shirt and black sweatpants that TK had left him, along with the grey socks. He loved the fact that TK remembered that when he was tired, he just wanted to be swaddled in clothes and kept warm, and he always opted for socks when he was this tired. He opened the bathroom door and walked into the hallway, sliding a little on the wooden floor, each step feeling jarred and unnatural. He was halfway down the stairs when his vision on one side greyed out, and sat down where he was standing, momentarily stunned.

“Are you okay?” asked TK, appearing at the bottom of the stairs. Carlos couldn’t focus on him properly, eyes roving as he struggle with the loss on one side.

“Yeah, just a head spin, that’s all. It’s probably because I haven’t eaten,” he joked weakly. TK walked up the last few stairs, taking Carlos’ hand and supporting him down the last few steps. Carlos missed the concerned look from TK as he laid a hand on his back, feeling fine tremors racing through Carlos’ muscles.

“Here, take a seat on the lounge. I’ll bring in your dinner,” said TK gently. Carlos felt the lounge at the back of his knees, and dropped to sit on it, trying not to look at TK. He heard TK walk into the kitchen, returning moments later, pressing a bowl into his hands.

“Don’t worry, Paul came over and helped me cook so I wouldn’t kill you. It’s a vegetable stew,” explained TK. Carlos glanced down at the bowl, barely able to make anything out, and fumbled for the spoon. TK sat down next to him, legs pulled up on the lounge as he reached for the remote, flipping on Hulu and starting the Brooklyn Nine-Nine episode. Carlos started into the food, trying to quell the nausea in his stomach, before setting the bowl down after a few mouthfuls, the food sitting slick in his stomach. TK laughed at a joke on the TV, before scooting across and laying across Carlos’ lap. Carlos wrapped his arm across TK’s chest, holding onto his arm, TK’s head resting on his chest. He breathed carefully, trying to keep what little food he’d consumed in his stomach.

“Do you ever think about getting married?” asked TK, as Jake and Amy played out their wedding on screen.

“Sometimes,” answered Carlos, swallowing thickly around the words. TK fumbled the remote, pressing pause before pushing himself upright to look at Carlos.

“’Los? What’s going on?” he asked carefully. Carlos shook his head, feeling the whole world pressing in on him, a roaring in his ears. He stood up, needing to get to a bathroom before his stomach revolted, and felt the floor tilt underneath him, rushing up to meet him hard. He groaned, head exploding in an array of colours and sound, stomach finally winning its fight to escape, and he rolled over, vomiting on the hardwood floors.

“Shit. You’re okay, don’t panic,” said TK quietly. He darted into the laundry, pulling out the bucket and mop, clearing up the mess as Carlos shivered on the floor, barely able to get his bearings. He could sense TK squatting down beside him, running a hand through his hair, the thin sheen of sweat on his face making it worse, the sensations overwhelming as he choked back a sob.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a migraine?” asked TK gently.

“Didn’t know. Haven’t had one in a while,” explained Carlos, lips and tongue feeling heavy and unnatural, the formation of words harder than it usually was. His head pounded in time with his heartbeat, and it made the nausea feel worse.

“How long ago?” replied TK softly.

“Six years? Before the force,” mumbled Carlos. His head felt like it was simultaneously on fire but frozen, his brain trying to escape from his ears.

“Okay, it’s been a while, but I think I can help, alright? I’m going to get you upright and into bed, see if you can get some sleep, it might make you feel better.” TK wrestled with Carlos’ arms and legs, trying to get him to his feet, Carlos unable to help. After a few minutes he was upright, head lolling on TK’s shoulder as he swallowed back bile, the Hershey’s bars from earlier determined to make a reappearance. He stumbled forward, TK guiding him to the stairs, each step feeling like it rattled his bones, unable to judge the depth of the step or where his feet should go. TK whispered small encouragements to Carlos under his breath, taking it as slow as possible, before they were finally on the first floor. TK shuffled him down the hallway, before pushing open the door, the tiny squeak from the hinges sounding like nails on a chalkboard. He winced a little as TK helped him sit down on the bed, darting across the room to lower the blinds, turning off all the lights and leaving the ensuite door cracked open slightly, allowing minimal light into the room.

“Feel dizzy,” mumbled Carlos, barely able to move his lips. He closed his eyes against the waves of pain coursing through his head, willing the nausea to subside. TK moved to stand in front of him, between his legs, and ran his hands through Carlos’ hair.

“I’m sorry you feel so awful. I think there’s some Excedrin in the bathroom cabinet. Can you try and take some?” whispered TK. Carlos nodded, and whimpered as TK’s solid body abandoned him, leaving him floating away in the sea of pain. It felt like years before TK returned, pressing two tablets into Carlos’ palm. He popped them into his mouth, and then TK pushed the glass of water against his hand, supporting him to take a sip of water. Carlos swallowed the tablets, listening to TK place the glass down on the bedside table, before TK pulled away again. Carlos felt his body sag as TK left, before feeling the bed dip down on the opposite side, TK’s warmth behind him a few moments, later.

“Let me look after you,” he breathed. Carlos panicked as he felt himself tip backwards, but relaxed as his back hit TK’s chest, an anchor in the storm inside his head, safe refuge. He dragged his legs up on the bed, settling between TK’s thighs, hands on TK’s knees as he scratched Carlos’ scalp, the sensation soothing. He sighed deeply, the pain still throbbing through his skull, a pounding staccato out of sync to the rhythm of his breathing.

“Thank you,” sighed Carlos.

“Try and get some sleep.”

* * *

Carlos woke up a what felt like a few hours later, half covered by a blanket, TK noticeably absent. The pain in his head had ratcheted up a notch, blinding and overwhelming, making him feel insignificant against its rampage, a grain of sand against the raging ocean. The nausea had returned in full force, and he rolled over as his stomach roiled, vomiting on the wooden floor. He started sobbing, wishing for an end to the shards of glass shearing slices through his skull, hands creeping up to clutch at his skull as he writhed against the bedsheets.

_He didn’t remember it ever being this bad._

He wept brokenly, no longer able to remember his name as his brain tried to flatten itself against his skull, shards of memories slicing themselves against the confines of his head, fragments of information floating into the ether, no longer able to think clearly.

“Hey, breathe, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Carlos listened for TK’s voice, trying to focus on him. He felt TK’s hand on his chest, and he stretched out blindly, gripping TK’s bicep.

“Please,” begged Carlos, voice cracking. TK prised off his fingers for a moment, all tones of apology in the air.

“I just need to clean up, and then Michelle and Tommy have given me suggestions, okay? We’ll get you through this,” whispered TK. Carlos nodded, whining at the loss of TK, listening for the sounds of his breathing, tasting the tang of his sweat in the air, the acrid bile still coating his tongue. He tried to count each breath, control the intake of air, the congestion in his chest and nose making it harder to maintain each inhale and exhale. He heard TK pull out the bucket and mop, the slap of the wet tendrils hitting the floor as TK swished the mop across the wooden slats, before lifting the mop up from the floor, squeezing it out into the bucket, each drip louder than the last, before TK collected the bucket and mop, moving it out of the bedroom. He returned a few moments later, and Carlos felt a few items fall on the bed, each thump echoing through his bones, before the clink of a glass settling on his nightstand. He felt the bed dip, TK nearby, and then felt his hand on his arm.

“TK?” he said, voice small, barely audible.

“I’m here. I’ve got some things that Michelle and Tommy suggested to help you out, okay? I’m going to put an IV line in, try and get your fluids up. Small pinch.” Carlos barely noticed it over the pounding in his head, and TK expertly had the IV line hooked up seconds later, hanging the IV bag on the bedpost. “I’ve got some peppermint oil to help with the headache and nausea, and some lavender so you can try and relax. I’ve also got some ice cubes if you want to try one, and I’ve got a cold pack for the back of your neck. Can you sit up a little?” Carlos struggled to push himself up, muscles like rubber, pulled taut yet unable to tense up. TK helped him wrestle up the bed, sitting behind him again, trying to lend Carlos some of his strength.

“How long?” breathed Carlos.

“You were asleep for nearly twelve hours. I’ve called your sergeant, he’s put you on medical leave for a few days, and I asked Tommy to pull me from shift so I could be here for you. Do you trust me?” asked TK, and Carlos could hear the concern and doubt in his voice. Carlos found TK’s knee, and gave it a gentle squeeze of affirmation. TK moved behind him, and he felt an icepack pressed against the base of his skull. The relief was instant, the pain knocked down a few notches, and Carlos breathed a sigh of relief, both hands on TK’s legs, running down them slowly, the sensation under his hands soothing.

“Thank you.”

“It’s okay.” TK shifted behind him, and Carlos heard the sound of a container being unscrewed. The smell of peppermint permeated the air, soothing and fresh, and TK gently dabbed some of the oil on Carlos’ temples. Carlos just breathed through the touch, the pounding in his head starting to lessen a little more, feeling more like he wasn’t going to shrivel up and die. TK set down the container of peppermint oil, and let Carlos lean back against him for a little while, moving his fingers back to Carlos’ scalp, running his finger nails over the skin, feeling Carlos start to turn to putty underneath his fingertips.

As the ice pack started to warm, TK peeled it off Carlos’ neck, and sat him up a little. “I have some ice cubes. Would you like to try one?” Carlos nodded, and opened his mouth obediently. He closed his lips around TK’s fingertips, the salt from his skin dichotomous with the cold of the ice. He let the ice melt against his tongue, the nausea still at bay. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” breathed Carlos. TK plucked another ice cube out of the glass, pressing it against Carlos’ lips. One by one, Carlos accepted each ice cube as a gift, savouring each one until TK pulled away, setting the glass on the bedside table.

“How are you feeling?”

“Less like I’ve been chewed up and spat out by a giant,” admitted Carlos. He heard TK crack the lid on a bottle, and then cool, viscous liquid against his shoulders, a hint of lavender in the air. TK’s hands were on his shoulders moments later, fingers and thumbs pressing against the tense muscles in his shoulders and neck, a moan escaping Carlos’ lips as he melted under TK’s touch. After a few minutes, he started to slump down, unable to hold himself up as he relaxed into the touch, sleep creeping up on him, tendrils creeping through his head and dragging him under.

“Sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

* * *

When Carlos came around later in the evening, he felt less like his head was trying to explode, and more like he was recovering from a really big night. He flipped back the blankets, moving slowly out of the room. He winced at the daylight streaming in to the hallway, but he didn’t need to crawl back into bed or feel like his brain was trying to escape. He shuffled down the corridor, taking the stairs one at a time, feeling seedy and tender, almost like the migraine was hanging around, waiting for the moment it could strike again. TK was on the lounge, a cup of coffee in his hand, legs tucked under a blanket. He glanced up to see Carlos staggering through the room, and set the mug on the table.

“Hey, I was just going to check on you. How are you feeling?” asked TK gently. He lifted an arm, and Carlos shuffled across the room, falling on top of TK, snuggling in close.

“Like death warmed up, to be honest. Thank you for being here,” said Carlos, pressing his nose against TK’s chest and inhaling his scent.

“I wasn’t going anywhere. I would always be here for you, no matter what,” replied TK, pulling Carlos close, running a hand along his back. Carlos sighed, relaxing against TK, whimpering as he pulled away to reach for his coffee cup. “Not all of us have had nearly twenty hours of beauty sleep. I still need this coffee to function,” grumbled TK.

“I’m sorry,” said Carlos earnestly.

“It’s okay. I’d do it all again for you in a heartbeat.” TK leaned down and kissed the top of Carlos’ head, smoothing back his hair. “I’d do it every time, because I love you.”

Carlos glanced up at TK, smiling dopily, eyes still glazed a little. “I love you too, Tyler Kennedy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr and harass me to write more - @AliceSchuyler


End file.
